by Kyle Johnson
Liam moved to stand before the giant statue, opening the black case. He muttered a few sentences, removing a knife with a black, evil-looking blade from the box as he finished. He deftly sliced his palm and shook a few drops of blood onto Martina and Hector. The Ranger felt an icy touch on the back of her neck as some malevolent power rose in the room, and she shivered in fear despite herself.
Liam kept muttering, and suddenly one of his summoned beasts, a wolf-like monster with tentacles sprouting from its shoulders, appeared in front of him. Liam grabbed the creature’s head, ordered it to be still, and jabbed the knife into its throat, slicing its carotid open in a spray of blood. The crimson fluid washed over the statue and spattered on the floor, but the wolf stood calmly, held immobile by the magical bonds that had summoned it. Martina watched in horror as the creature bled out; she understood, now, why Liam had wanted so many creatures.
“That should get things started,” Liam said brightly, placing a bandage on his wounded hand. “Don’t worry, these things take time. I’ll probably go through a sizable chunk of my menagerie before we’re ready. You’ve got a long while before the grand finale, so relax and enjoy it!”
“I’d like it better if you undid these chains and let me wring your skinny neck,” Hector’s voice rumbled from beyond Liam, and Martina’s heart leapt as she realized the big Warrior was awake. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Probably not for me,” Liam chuckled. “I don’t want to lose the time to respawn, to be honest. I’ve got to come back here and do this pretty regularly, now, to keep that bitch Virnal’s attention, or I’ll have to start all over again.” He turned to go, but as he did, he stopped and looked back at the pair. “Oh, and since I’m sure the moment I’m gone, you’ll be telling Phil about this, please pass a message on to him for me.”
Martina gasped as the man’s form began to shift, shrinking inward, growing slimmer and curvier. His graying hair lengthened and turned a golden blonde, and his ears gained a decidedly elven point to them. As his transformation into a female elf finished, the Summoner smiled at the pair and spoke.
“Tell him that Lily says, ‘Hi’. I’m goddamned sure he’ll know what that means.”
Chapter 13
Aranos sat beside Saphielle’s still form, staring out the window at the sun sitting high in the sky. One hand rested on her shoulder, which was warm beneath his touch. The Avenger lived, but she hadn’t woken since destroying the undead knight.
After the lanohtar’s defeat, the remaining undead had simply collapsed; apparently, some Ability of the undead general had kept them animated. Without its presence, they had returned to being simple corpses. Aranos rushed to Saphielle’s side, but Geltheriel had stopped him before he could get too close.
“Allow the healers the space they need, Oathbinder,” she’d murmured to him, holding him back effortlessly. “Her life may depend on how quickly and well they can reach her.” Aranos had reluctantly nodded as Rhys and Meridian both rushed forth, healing Spells glowing on their hands.
A minute or so later, the Shaman rose to her feet. “She’ll live,” she said shortly. “At least, I’m pretty sure. That sword had some weird energy to it, and it’s trying to eat at her. She’s fighting it, though, and I think she’ll win.” She smiled at Aranos, who nodded at her.
They’d all returned to the tower, both physically and emotionally exhausted from the long battle and the climactic finale. Aranos was the only one who didn’t technically need to sleep, but he was certain that his Endurance wouldn’t come back until he’d had a long rest, so he’d reluctantly gone to his tent and closed his eyes.
His Dreamstriding took him first to Lorsan. The majordomo seemed less surprised to find himself in the dreamscape this time; either that, or he had been practicing his inscrutable expression so as not to be caught off-guard again. Aranos figured it was an even bet which was true.
“I am glad to see you, my Lord,” the elf bowed to Aranos a moment after appearing in the Realm of Dreams. “I have news for you, both good and bad. Do you have a preference which should come first?”
“Let’s end on a high note,” Aranos decided. “Bad news first.”
“Very well,” Lorsan nodded. “Two of our facilities were attacked yesterday.”
Aranos blinked. “Wait, attacked? What do you mean? Was anyone hurt?”
“Several of the paid laborers were killed,” Lorsan nodded. “Because of this, many others have said they will not work for us until we provide better protection.”
Aranos’ face darkened. “And do we know who did it?” he demanded.
“It is not perfectly clear,” Lorsan hedged. “The House of Blades is still investigating. However, all evidence points to House Luzeiros. Both attacks happened when guards from Luzeiros were nearby, the attackers were swordsmen, and Meriel of Luzeiros vanished just as it happened.”
Aranos stopped. “That’s…a little too neat,” he said slowly. “It sounds more like someone wanted it to look like Luzeiros attacked us, don’t you think?”
“That was my thought as well, my Lord,” Lorsan agreed. “However, it is possible that Ghilanna of Luzeiros struck so openly simply because none would believe her responsible when the evidence so clearly points to her.”
Aranos sighed, rubbing his head. “If only I could talk to her,” he muttered. He paused and looked at Lorsan with a smile. “Maybe I can. Do you know what Ghilanna looks like?”
“Of course, my Lord,” the elf said smoothly. “I know all of the House Lords by sight.”
“Describe her to me, then. Not just her appearance; how does she talk? How does she walk? Does she have any weird mannerisms?”
Lorsan stared at the Sorcerer for a moment before describing the woman as carefully as possible. It took him a few minutes, and Aranos was frankly amazed at the depth of the man’s knowledge. When Lorsan was finished, Aranos felt he had a good image of the Matriarch of Luzeiros; enough, anyways, for his purposes.
“Okay, so what’s the good news?” he finally asked.
“Ah, the good news is that our House’s services have been in high demand, my Lord,” the elf smiled in reply. “And not merely in Eredain. We have received requests from across the Elven Realms, more than we can feasibly accept.”
Aranos frowned. “Wait, from across the Realms?” he interrupted. “How’s that good news?”
“It means that our Reputation is spreading, my Lord,” the majordomo assured him.
Aranos pulled up his House status curiously. “It doesn’t look like our Reputation is going up, though, Lorsan. If anything, it looks like it’s dropped a few points. I don’t think this is good news.”
“What do you mean, my Lord?”
“I mean, it looks like someone is convincing people to offer us Quests we can’t possibly accept. If we keep telling them no, won’t it look like we aren’t capable of walking the Path we’re trying to navigate? Won’t people think we’re incompetent or unreliable?”
Lorsan stopped, his face blank. “I – I hadn’t considered that, my Lord,” he admitted after a moment. “You are correct; if we are continually refusing Quests, surely the other Houses will cease offering them to us.”
Aranos thought for a moment. “Can you give me a description of Meriel, as well?” he asked at last. “I think I might want to visit her first.”
“As you wish, my Lord, although I am not as familiar with her mannerisms and personality.”
After hearing the more limited description Lorsan could give him, Aranos sighed. “I think the best thing we can do right now is spend some money to hire guards for our facilities,” he told the majordomo. “I’ve developed some new methods of Enchanting, plus I’ve learned how to make deepsteel and faymetal items. I think we should be able to sell those for a decent profit. Talk to Houses Gilris and Liapetor and let them know that I’m intending to craft higher-quality items with strong Enchantments to sell. Find out what sort of things they won’t make, so we aren’t stealing any customers from them.
” He grimaced. “Actually, never mind. I remember their Scions. I’ll talk to them myself. I don’t want to step on any toes, here.”
“That is very wise of you, my Lord,” Lorsan bowed. “I will see to hiring guards at once. Is there anything else?”
“How are things going with the Travelers?” Aranos asked cautiously. “Have there been any problems?”
“None of which I am aware, my Lord. They train during the morning hours and Quest during the evenings. Sometimes, they return unexpectedly – I believe they call it ‘respawning’ – but it does not seem to bother them greatly. Often, I have heard them laughing about ways in which they were killed. It is…unnerving, to say the least, but it is something one must adapt to when surrounded by those who cannot die.”
“Yeah, it’s still not much fun to do it,” Aranos grimaced. “A lot of times, the joking and laughing is a way to put it behind you. If you were just eaten by something, you don’t really want to dwell on it.”
Lorsan shuddered. “I do not believe that immortality is the gift it is made out to be, my Lord, if it means one must experience death repeatedly in imaginative new ways. No offense intended, of course.”
“None taken,” Aranos shrugged. “It’s not for everybody, even among my people.” He stretched. “I’ll talk to you soon, Lorsan. I’ve got a bunch of people to chat with today.”
Faraine of House Gilris was a tiny woman with silver-white hair. She was so short that the first time Aranos had met her, when he was investigating the death of her father, he’d mistakenly thought she was a child. In fact, she was a powerful Enchanter, likely a Master in the Skill bordering on Grandmaster, and on her father’s passing, she had become the Matriarch of her House. She had also agreed to sell House Evenshade’s Enchanted items using her House’s contacts, so Aranos was quite carefully respectful as he spoke to her.
It had been harder than normal to call her into the Realm of Dreams; it was as if the woman resisted his Skill somehow. It’s more likely that she’s got an item that protects her from Dreamhaunting, he corrected himself. That, or her whole estate is warded against Dreamwalking. It took him almost a full minute of concentration to reach her, but eventually he’d been able to draw her image into the dreamscape. The tiny woman looked around the sea of reflected dream images curiously as she appeared.
“Lord Evenshade,” she said at last, inclining her head to him. “We are in the Realm of Dreams?” When he nodded, she continued. “Quite fascinating, and rather unexpected, if I may be frank. Both I and my House are warded against such intrusions. And yet, I recall that you were able to investigate my father’s wards when all others failed; I suppose this is simply another such instance, and I should not be surprised.”
“Lady Gilris,” Aranos bowed formally. “Forgive my intrusion, but I’m far distant from the Stronghold, and I wanted to speak to you in person. You’ve been kind to my House, and I’d like to repay your kindness with courtesy.”
“Well spoken, Lord Evenshade,” Faraine replied approvingly. Aranos had read her correctly; she’d been worried about his behavior the day they’d met, and he had a feeling she was a stickler for formality. “My kindness to you pales, though, in comparison to the service you have done both my House and me in finding and slaying my father’s murderer. It is indeed among the very least that I could do to assist you.”
“It was my honor to serve the Stronghold, and the people of Eredain,” Aranos replied. “In fact, it’s about serving the Stronghold – and the Elven Realms – that I want to talk to you.”
“You have my curiosity piqued,” the woman smiled. “Is this a favor you wish to ask of me?”
“To the contrary, Lady, I’m looking for your advice and approval about further Enchantments, as I don’t want to intrude on the crafts that you and your House create.”
The woman waved her hand dismissively. “You need not seek my permission for your own crafting, my Lord. We of House Gilris do not fear competition, as you might imagine.”
Aranos laughed good-naturedly. “Probably with good reason; I’m not that skilled, just yet. However, I’ve learned some new techniques that are neither Enchanting nor Runecrafting but use elements of both. I’ve also discovered how to craft and Enchant both deepsteel and faymetal. I know that there’s a market for these, since they’re both difficult to acquire and highly valued, I wouldn’t want to impinge on your House in any way.”
Faraine had frozen at his words and stared at him, her face blank but her eyes reflecting deep concern. “You can Enchant faymetal and deepsteel, Traveler?” she said softly, seemingly jarred from her formality. “How…never mind. You know, of course, that we can craft nothing that will compare with such weapons and armor, even if the Enchantments upon them are of lesser quality. Knowing your exploits, I would not venture to guess that the quality of your Enchantments is anything less than excellent, as well. You could easily dominate the market with such items, Lord Evenshade.”
“I actually can’t, my Lady,” he shook his head. “Crafting faymetal is difficult, and I’m limited in how much I can make. Deepsteel is simpler, but it takes time and effort. Honestly, I’ve got a lot of other things that need my attention, and I’m just crafting these to raise money for my House until we’re sufficient without that income. I just want to know what kind of items would be the least disruptive to your House and your crafters.”
Faraine watched him carefully for a few moments before bowing her head. “You are kind to think of us, my Lord,” she said, her voice more respectful than it had been before. “I – I have not yet reached the level of Skill my father had, and because of this, some have turned away from our House to seek other suppliers for their greatest Enchantments. If you were to begin producing items of deepsteel, which I would have difficulty Enchanting, or faymetal – which I freely admit I cannot Enchant, nor can any outside of the fay realm, to the best of my knowledge – it would cast larger doubts upon my House at a time I could ill afford such.”
Aranos frowned, thinking furiously. “What if I agreed to only sell Enchanted faymetal to your House, so you could re-sell it, my Lady?” he asked slowly.
Faraine frowned. “Could you instead teach us how to Enchant faymetal as you do?” she countered.
“I don’t think I can, I’m sorry,” he shook his head. When her face darkened, he quickly continued. “Not because I don’t want to or want to keep it a secret. It requires a specific Ability that I doubt anyone in your House has, since it’s related directly to my Class. Plus, I’m only an Adept at it right now, so I can’t teach it effectively even if I wanted to. If I could, though, I would be happy to…in exchange for your teaching me more about Enchanting, of course!”
The woman sighed. “Then this is the next-best arrangement, I suppose. If others wish to purchase faymetal items, they will have to work with us, keeping our relationships alive until I reach Grandmaster level myself.” She looked directly at Aranos. “This is a very large favor you grant my House, Lord Evenshade. Is there aught you would wish in return?”
“As I said, I wouldn’t say no to your instruction in Enchantment, my Lady,” he grinned at her. “I’ve just hit the Expert ranks, myself, but I don’t really know all that many Enchantments, yet. It would be great to learn more and maybe pick up some pointers from an actual Master.”
“I would be honored, my Lord,” the woman bowed. “And my thanks for your consideration.”
The conversation with the exceptionally thin, long-fingered Onvyr of House Liapetor didn’t go quite as smoothly. “I have seen your works being sold through House Gilris, Traveler,” the copper-haired man spoke, his eyes fierce and his jaw set. “Why did you not come to my House, first, to sell your Runecrafts? Do you think us unworthy of your crafts?”
Aranos had been quite frankly stunned. “Not at all, Onvyr,” he stammered. “My Skill’s called High Enchanting, so I naturally went to the House that specialized in Enchanting. I didn’t mean any offense…”
“Yet offense was taken, L
ord Evenshade,” the man said firmly. “I am not Patriarch, yet, but my father Cohnal has spoken of this, both to me and to the Lords of other Houses. You will find that many now are not your allies. We are not your enemies, but should you continue to work outside of us…”
“That’s why I came to talk to you, Onvyr,” Aranos said quietly, silencing the elf with an effort of will. “I brought you here to tell you that I’ve developed some more advanced Runecrafting techniques. I was hoping to work with your House so that my efforts aren’t undermining yours. I can see that I was mistaken, though.”
Onvyr opened his mouth to protest, but Aranos shook his head. “You said it yourself: your father has already decided he doesn’t like me, but he never bothered to talk to me about this. He just assumed I was insulting him, just like you have. If he’d come to me, we would have worked something out; I don’t mean your House any harm.
“But I won’t work with people who go around behind my back and stir up resentment against my House,” Aranos continued, his voice hardening. As he spoke, the dreamscape around him darkened, mirroring his anger. Onvyr looked around nervously, and Aranos could see the fear growing on his face.
“If you’re the kind of House who behaves like that, who won’t do me the courtesy of telling me you’ve got a problem and giving me a chance to fix it before you go around trying to create more problems for me…then I want no part of you. Go back and tell your father that pretty soon, Runecrafted deepsteel and faymetal will be coming to the market, and that you cost him a chance to work with me selling it. Then, when he gets angry, tell him what I said, and once he realizes it’s his own fault, maybe he’ll forgive you and apologize to me.
“If not, then I’ll know I was right not to work with him.” Before Onvyr could speak, Aranos dismissed his image. He stopped and took some deep breaths, calming himself; a quick glance around him showed him that his anger had bled into the nearby dreams. He hoped he hadn’t given anyone nightmares, but it was interesting to see that he could directly affect the dreams around him if he wanted to. He’d have to experiment with that another time. He didn’t have forever in the dreamscape, and his visit to Onvyr had been a waste.